Homelife
by rose.tinted.lies
Summary: In their big, crumbling house, even the most mundane tasks bring insight, and Cloud takes a few minutes to indulge in the domesticity that comes from his three children. Roxas. Zexion. Demyx. Oh my! Kid!fic. Adoption.


"Daddy!"

The loud, high-pitched squeal rang through the house like a gong, reverberating off the walls as if they were those of a cave, and a weary blond man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes squinted shut, as if to block out the noise. Four years down the track, and Cloud Strife could quite honestly admit that the parenting gig just hadn't gotten any easier – not that he'd expected that to begin with, though.

"_Daddy!_"

He turned around, angling his body with perfect timing as a petite boy with hair a few shades darker than his own skidded into the kitchen, tears making tracks down the length of his face. He crashed into Cloud's legs, hair mussed and cheeks flushed.

With a small sigh and a look towards the dishes he'd just about to begin cleaning, Cloud shook his head and leaned down so that he was eye-level with the child. Demyx removed his arms from the vice-like grip they'd had on his legs and stepped back slightly, wiping his nose with his sleeve and sniffling.

"Hey there," Cloud crooned gently, wiping away a few stray tears. "How about you tell me what's got you so upset, Demmy."

The nickname was one that slipped out occasionally, when the oldest child was in distress, but Demyx never seemed to mind. His lower lip wobbled, and with watery eyes filled so that they looked as though they were about to spill over, he began to speak.

"R-Roxas felled asleep in m-my bed, so I went to Zexy's room, a 'cause I didn't wanna be rude an' wake him up, a 'cause he was awful sleepy today – but Zexy told me to go away, an' I ast' why an' he s-said he don't like me anymore, and that to leave him alone. An' then he pushed me out o' the room and s-said a bad word!"

Demyx's words were run together and near the end of his speech he started crying again, but Cloud was able to make sense of the whole thing, and his brow furrowed. The entire household was used to the pale middle child's sometimes rapid mood swings – which still didn't explain Zexion's behaviour entirely – so it must have affected Demyx greatly for the blond to get so emotional.

When Cloud held out his arms, Demyx fell into them gratefully and as he stood up, the little boy clung to his neck almost painfully, burying his small head in Cloud's chest. Shifting his weight so that Demyx rested on his hip, Cloud held him carefully and began to walk (even at nine years old, the child wasn't exactly what one would consider heavy), making his way out to the living room and up the wooden staircase that led to all the house's bedrooms. He reached the second door to the right and stopped, knocking quietly but firmly – he peered into Demyx's room across the hall as he waited for an answer, making sure that his youngest was still asleep. He was.

A soft, "Come in," came from beyond the closed door, and Cloud turned the handle and made his way inside. The room was small, not overly so, but neat, a great deal of books lining the various shelves in precise order. A small boy with almost lilac coloured hair sat on the bed, pressed up where two walls met, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose that let Cloud know he'd been reading. His knees were drawn up to his chest in a defensive gesture that told anybody paying close enough attention that the child expected to be scolded.

"Hey," Cloud said softly, disturbing the quiet of the room and making his way across the floor to sit down on the mattress, close enough to let Zexion know that they were on even ground. The eight-year-old looked up with narrowed eyes. He was obviously prepared for a fight, but as he looked at the boy curled up against his father's chest his expression softened slightly.

"What were you reading?"

Obviously not expecting such a simple question, Zexion looked puzzled for a moment before pointing silently to his nightstand, where a small paperback sat closed, a blue bookmark sticking out near the middle. Demyx had made that bookmark a few weeks before.

"Is that the one you asked Leon to buy you last week, from the little store down the road?"

Zexion nodded, eyes wary as to where the conversation was headed. Cloud gave him a small smile to let him know he wasn't being accosted, but it went away as he started his next sentence.

"Zexion, you know why I came up here," he observed said boy's face before continuing. "Demyx told me what happened. Is there anything you'd like to add? Anything you think I'm missing?"

Zexion looked down, long bangs hiding his face, and picked at the blanket with his fingers. He murmured something so quietly that Cloud had to ask him to repeat himself. Demyx had yet to look up from his chest.

"I said …" Zexion began quietly, peering upwards through his hair before quickly averting his gaze once more. "I didn't mean to get mad – I didn't wanna make Dem cry …"

Obviously paying attention, Demyx's head shifted, looking at the other boy sideways.

"Oh?" Cloud prompted, knowing there was more to the story.

"I'm sorry!" the sudden exclamation was not aimed at Cloud, and he noted that Zexion's eyes were misty with guilt. He'd obviously been beating himself up over his actions. He lowered his knees and crawled over to the other two occupants of the bed, kneeling in front of Cloud and by default, Demyx, before saying, rushed; "I'm sorry, Dem. I _do _want to be your friend – 'cause you're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm sorry I made you cry, I didn't mean to. I was just angry 'cause somebody bent my stupid glasses a little. I fixed 'em now, and I'm _real_ sorry, Dem. Will you still be my friend?"

Demyx twisted around and Cloud let go of his waist, standing up just as the smaller blond said, giggling, "O' course I'm still your friend, Zexy!"

This carried with it a hug that was almost a tackle, and Zexion 'oof'ed as his back hit the mattress. Smiling at the rapid change in atmosphere, Cloud made his way to the door, knowing he was no longer needed. Sometimes his boys just needed a little push to help them say what they meant, and that was what he was there for. Closing the door to the sounds of childish laughter and a muttered, "If I'd known you were gonna tackle me, I wouldn't have apologized," that was met with more giggles, Cloud chuckled softly, happy that Demyx was so forgiving that he'd overlook Zexion's overwrought sarcasm – a personality trait that came with the child.

Standing once again in the hallway, Cloud tapped his foot on the wooden floorboards, humming to himself quietly. Deciding that he'd do well to wake up his youngest from his impromptu slumber, he crossed to the door almost directly opposite – a plaque in the centre proclaimed happily; _'Demyx's Room!'_. It was open, late-afternoon sunlight spilling in through the window and onto the bed facing the door, on top of which lay a tiny, sleeping blond.

Roxas' mouth was open partially, breathing slow and steady. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, socked feet hanging in the air a good distance from the floor, which gave Cloud the impression that he hadn't been prepared to fall asleep quite as fast as he probably had. No doubt the boy would be apologizing profusely later for taking up somebody else's bed – a ritual all occupants of the house were used to by this point, so the apologies were really quite unnecessary.

With a small frown, Cloud made his way over to the smaller blond. He knelt down in front of him and shook his shoulder lightly.

"Roxas," he called gently, waiting patiently for him to stir. The process of waking happened slowly, as Cloud had been prepared for, and by the time the boy's eyes fluttered open, revealing hazy blue orbs, Cloud was sitting back on his haunches, smiling softly. "Welcome back."

Roxas looked around, motions groggy and a look of confusion crossed his face momentarily before being replaced by comprehension. "I fell'ed asleep?"

Cloud nodded, not bothering to correct the poor grammar in one so young, especially so soon after waking up. He stood up, brushing down his slacks to rid them of creases, and looked down at his charge, smiling warmly.

"Yeah, Rox, a little while ago. Not for too long, though," he reached out a hand. "Would you like to join me in the kitchen? I'm about to start dinner."

Roxas nodded slowly, the after-effects of sleep still clinging to his consciousness, and Cloud picked him up, swinging the much smaller body so that he was resting on his hip, much like Demyx had been. Roxas' hands curled themselves around his guardian's shirt, having enough trust in the older male not to drop him, and Cloud carried him down the stairs.

He was more than slightly worried about his youngest charge. The blue-eyed child had been having more and more episodes as of late – he and Leon had started to expect them every few hours, instead of just daily. They would have to take him to see a specialist if it continued, but both men were hesitant to do so. They were always one step away from having any one of their three children taken away from them, and neither man was willing to test those boundaries.

Entering the kitchen, Cloud placed Roxas on the bench just near the sink, rolling up his sleeves. He stepped closer to the sink and tested the water, making sure it was still warm enough to clean the dishes. It was, and shooting a quick smile at Roxas who was watching him with wide, curious eyes as he was so often fond of doing, he plunged his hands into the soapy liquid, scrubbing away a day's worth of grime with the kind of ease that came from a great deal of practice.

"D'you want any help, Daddy?"

Roxas' quiet voice broke the calm, and Cloud smiled at him.

"Nah," he said easily, knowing that entrusting a little boy with porcelain plates and cups was not a very good idea. "I think I can handle it on my own. You just sit tight for a minute – I'll be starting dinner soon, and I could use some help with that, though. What do you think?"

Roxas nodded, eyes wide, and smiled, displaying a gap where one of his front teeth should have been. From experience, Cloud knew that this particular charge was especially helpful, sometimes overly so. Leon had mentioned that it may have been his way of making up for his narcolepsy – Roxas' way of balancing out for the 'burden' he often voiced that he was, no matter how many times they tried to explain otherwise. It was a discouraging thought, that the youngest member of the household held such a poor view of himself, but they were at a loss of what to do.

Cloud finished the dishes quickly, removing the plug and watching the water wash down the drain before drying his hands on a scattered tea-towel. The sun had begun its descent outdoors, and as he turned to look at the boy beside him he caught sight of the golden rays casting patterns on his hair, lending a darker hue to the usual dusty colour. If there was one thing he enjoyed about the big old house, it was the vast amount of windows located throughout.

"What're we havin' fo' dinner?" Roxas asked, blue eyes blinking in unguarded curiosity, gazing around the kitchen slowly. Always slowly, with him. If the child ever made a hasty movement Cloud thought he might just have a heart attack.

The man smiled at him, ruffling his hair fondly as he turned to take a few steps in the opposite direction, collecting a bag of meat from where it had been defrosting in a bowl and making his way swiftly back, dropping the bag on the bench next to Roxas. He looked down at it curiously, brows drawn, and then his expression brightened to reveal a gap-toothed grin.

"Hamburgers!"

oOo


End file.
